


A Tisket, A Tasket

by Spunkybob5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, Castiel in the Bunker, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Shopping, antiques
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6443257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spunkybob5/pseuds/Spunkybob5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something special catches Castiel's eye in a store window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tisket, A Tasket

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the boys take over the bunker. No spoilers. Just SO MUCH FLUFF.

It took Sam a moment to realize Castiel was no longer beside him.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, reaching for the jagged blade he always carried. He spun a tight pirouette, eyes sharp for danger. He relaxed a second later, spotting Castiel, unharmed, half a block down the street. Sam kept his gaze trained on Castiel, though, just in case, as he trotted back to his friend.

“Sup, Cas?”

Castiel was peering intently into a shop window. Sam stood next to him, scanning the display. It was a typical junk shop masquerading as an antique store. A few actual quality pieces filled the window, but didn’t quite disguise the random rubbish that had been sitting in the homes of now-deceased retirees for decades before being sold by the box by surviving relatives.

“It’s beautiful,” Castiel spoke reverently, but Sam still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be admiring.

“Do you want to go in?”

Castiel blinked, then nodded, and Sam held the door. The tinkling of the door was nearly drowned out by Sam’s sneeze. Sam wrinkled his nose and blinked, trying to adjust to the musty smell and dim lighting. Castiel seemed unfazed. He was circling a pedestal, hand dragging through the air above the antique as if afraid to actually make contact.

Castiel took two more steps, and Sam was finally able to see what had so completely enthralled his friend.

“A basket?”

“It’s a gorgeous piece, isn’t it, Sugar?” A large woman appeared as if from nowhere. Her muumuu and make-up were equally vibrant, and she was eyeing Castiel as though he were a particularly delicious cupcake. “Our experts say it’s from the time of the Inca. They used it to carry vegetables.”

Sam stepped closer. The basket was a perfect shallow bowl. It was huge, easily large enough to fit a 10 pound bag of flour. There were places of disrepair, certainly, but if it was truly 500 years old, it was in remarkable condition.

Castiel shook his head, “No, your sources are wrong. This basket is from the time of the Wari. It’s older. Much older. And the Inca may have used baskets like this for produce, but the Wari women used them as babysitters.”

“Babysitters?” Sam tilted his head. “What does that mean?”

“You know that video Dean likes? With the Chow Chow puppy struggling to get out of the big metal food bowl?”

Sam nodded.

“Same principle,” Cas smiled.

Muumuu Lady’s eyes narrowed. “You two seem like a very nice couple. I suppose I could let this incredible piece of human history go for a mere…$2000.”

Castiel’s smile faded. “The price tag reads $500.”

“Well, Sugar,” Muumuu Lady’s smile did not reach her eyes. “That was before I knew it was such an impressive find. If you’re right, I could sell it to a museum for twice the price. I’m giving you a deal here.”

“Do you want it, Cas?”

With one last pass of his hand over the basket, Castiel stepped back. “No, Sam. I don’t have a need for material possessions.”

They left the story quietly, the regret on Castiel’s face tearing at Sam’s heart.

***

Dean blinked in the dim light of the store. Sam hadn’t been kidding – the place smelled like they grew mold professionally. He wondered bizarrely if penicillin was grown in junk shops.

The tinkling of the doorbell brought a large woman to the front of the store. Her fire-orange eyeshadow matched her muumuu. “Morning, Sugar!” she sang, eyes dragging over Dean. “Anything I can help you find?”

“No, thanks. Just browsing.” Dean spotted the basket immediately. He spent the next ten minutes avoiding it, instead making a show of examining the store. He paused at the vintage Busty Asian Beauties, flipping through them with genuine interest. Dean returned the magazines, somewhat wistfully, to the rack. They were tempting, sure, but he wouldn’t trade what he had now for anything, even collectable porn.

After what Dean considered to be a reasonable amount of time, he drifted to the classy antiques in the store window. He didn’t have to force admiration for the Tiffany lamp or Civil War era rifle. But he wasn’t here for those.

Circling the pedestal exactly as Castiel had, Dean finally asked the question he’d had since entering the store. “What can you tell me about this basket?”

“Well, Sugar, that basket is Incan. Hundreds of years old, you know,” She moved closer to Dean, leaning in as though sharing a big secret. “I actually have a delightful gay couple interested in it, but they haven’t committed. Yet.”

Dean almost choked trying not to laugh. “Wow. Uh, I don’t blame them. It’s an interesting piece.”

“It surely is. I’m asking $1000 for it, but you seem like a sweet young man. $750 for you.”

***

Dean found Castiel in the library. “Hey, babe. Whatcha reading?”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel lifted his lips for a kiss. “Sam checked out some books on ancient South American history for me. This is the most recent volume available the local library. It’s amazing how little humans know about their own past. The cultures of South America were every bit as vibrant and complex as those in the rest of the world, but…” He trailed off, looking sad.

Dean shrugged, “I blame Columbus.” He took Castiel’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “It’s late, Cas. Come to bed.”

Castiel obliged, keeping his hand interlaced with Dean’s as they headed down the hall.

“Oh, by the way,” Dean said casually, as he pushed open the door. “I got you a little something.”

Castiel frowned, stepping into the room. “You didn’t have to do – _Dean_.” Castiel crossed the room in three steps, stopping in front of the dresser. The basket sat proudly atop it, a place of honor in their shared room. Hesitantly, Castiel traced his fingers along the rim. He closed his eyes, as if hundreds of years of history were being transferred to him from the reeds.

He dropped his hand abruptly, turning to Dean. “You bought this?”

Dean nodded, still standing in the doorway.

“For me?”

Dean nodded again.

“Why?”

Dean tilted his head, a perfect replica of Castiel’s confused expression. “Why? Because it caught your attention. Because it mattered to you,” Dean pushed off of the doorframe, walking over and setting his hands on Castiel’s hips. “Not a lot of things do that. I figured this-” he gestured to the basket, “must be special.”

Castiel shook his head, “I could have purchased it for myself, Dean.”

“You could have, but you didn’t,” Dean sighed, resting his forehead against Castiel’s. “Cas, you are special. You deserve special things. And…” Dean hesitated, then his words came out in a rush. “And I want to be able to provide those things for you. You do so much for me, this is something I can do for you, and I want you know that I love you, and I suck at words and I thought maybe a gift would start to show you, and…”

“I love you, too, Dean,” Castiel interrupted.

“Yeah?” Dean couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “And thank you for the basket. It is special, and I am honored to own it.”

“Not as special as you, Cas,” Dean whispered, kissing the man he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> The Wari is a real culture that lived in South America from 600 to 1000 CE. I have no idea what they did with baskets, or even if they had baskets. I made that up.


End file.
